Blue
by khanmiR1
Summary: Garrett wakes up and discovers two major things: 1) He's missed a full year of The City's timeline. and 2) There is an intruder in his home. Did he really think he'd be the only one to make a clock tower their home?
1. Chapter 1

**Short story to explore Garrett's life after Erin's death. AU, for obvious reasons. If you dislike Erin, this is the story for you! ^^**

* * *

~ I ~

Blue. It was both chaos and peace. For Garrett, it was the best color in the world. Everything beautiful seemed to be some hue of the pigment. Too bad blue didn't exist in The City.

Well, it _did_ , but nowhere easily noticed. When he was small, he remembered it as the glinting gem on his mother's wedding ring. It danced and sparkled in the lamplight as she moved about the house. When he was orphaned and alone, he discovered it on the delicate petals of the Poppy flower. Then the poppies wilted and faded away, hiding in only the safest places, away from him. He forgot about blue after that. Out of sight, out of mind proved so true.

And with each day of smog and tyranny, the City grew darker and darker. Blue was scarce.

"That's why thieving is so great," Garrett mused quietly to himself as his fingers deftly moved to lift the door of a hidden safe behind a painting. The caged bird behind him cooed softly, and he paused to look at the picture. It was of a raging ocean, swallowing up tiny, ant-like ships. He hated it. "They didn't even get the color right." Oceans were blue…this was…grey.

With the door open and inviting, he reached his hand in to retrieve the prize: One of the mortal coils. And what good fortune!- The jewels adorning the golden serpent's head were sapphires. Without any intention of selling this delectable piece, Garrett quite contentedly closed the safe to bring an end to his work day.

* * *

…

At the same time that the Master Thief began his shadowy trek back to his Tower, a woman in rich fabrics torn to rags limped through the undercrofts of a barren chapel. She was cold and tired, and smelled of soot. Her hands were cracked and covered in dirt and blood. Her approach to the graveyard church did not go unnoticed, and the Queen and her court came to meet the dying being.

Whispers about her wafted and curled around the crowd.

 _Poor girl…_

 _Why is she here?_

The woman crumpled to her scraped knees before the Queen of Beggars. "Please…"

The Queen's age-old eyes fell in pity for her, and she extended a hand. "You must be hungry, my dear." She pointed a bony, jewel-adorned finger to a boy. "Fetch us some water and bread. We have a guest in our Court tonight."

* * *

…

Garrett awoke with a start. Though his body wasn't quite fully awake, his mind dusted its gears and began reeling with questions of his surroundings. The air felt thick around him with a sour, sickly smell about it. A light rolling sound stayed constant in his ears. The ground beneath him moved and jerked unnaturally. His body ached.

 _A wagon?_ He turned to his stomach and steeled himself against bile that suddenly threatened to escape his throat. His gut lurched within him as the sound of voices close by assaulted his ears. He was attuned to hearing much better than the average citizen, but this was that sensitivity magnified tenfold; and it hurt.

The next 20 minutes were a blur. He was almost thrown from the wagon, then chased down an abnormally wet and grimy alleyway. The roofs extended their shadowy limbs to him, but the resulting difficulty he had in climbing left him angry and exhausted. As he caught his breath, he thanked the moon for the extra pudge on the guards' stomachs.

Somehow he had found time to snatch up a finely made piece from the nearest jewelers before realizing at some point he had made it to the base of the Clock Tower. Garrett sighed in near agony as the ache throughout his body pounded through him with each climbing grab up the tower's side.

He had expected to find his home just as he left it before he somehow blacked out. The subsequent arrow that flew by his face, grazing the dark cloth of his hood left him equally shocked and disappointed. All the man wanted to do was lie down. _Is that so much to ask?_

Garrett froze in place and scanned the cavernous rafters for the intruder. When his eyes found pale blue ones shining towards him from a far off beam, he mumbled audibly to ask himself if he was dreaming this.

"If you truly did dream your way up and through the window, I'll go meet the Baron himself and proclaim him a true king." A woman's voice slathered the words across the wooden boards from her hiding place with a dangerously roguish undertone. If Garrett didn't feel like he had just woken from a coma, he might find himself a bit intimidated. He scoffed angrily and crossed his arms in impatience. The woman was so obviously _toying_. Did she have any idea of who she was dealing with? His death should have come quickly by any other hand, but the mere fact that he was still standing in the foyer meant one of two things to him; she was either extremely foolish, or extremely dangerous. Either one made his head hurt.

But waiting games were his specialty, and he could play all day. Garrett ever so slowly lifted a foot to step backwards towards the window. Toes paused against the flooring, but when nothing happened he continued steadily to sit on the window ledge. That was better. Standing still after running across the rooftops proved more difficult as time passed, and he welcomed the break from supporting himself with his weakened legs.

The woman's voice sounded off again, interrupting his quiet anguish and burning holes through his ear drums. "Interesting to meet a thief that doesn't run when he is caught."

He couldn't help the reflexive rolling of his eyes. Damn, if this woman wasn't as dreary as a pauper's widow. This interrogation was the most passive-aggressive he had ever experienced, but something about it bristled the back of his neck. The woman was being serious. Though her remarks had been sarcastic enough, the tone was still honest. She truly must have thought he didn't live here. Was it that unbelievable for her that a furnished clock tower might already have an owner? He tried clearing his throat. A gag almost pushed past his tongue as the feeling of dusting off cobwebs fell down his dry throat. But it felt better after a few swallows.

"I live here, woman." He thought it might have come out a bit less…aggravated than it did. Truthfully, Garrett was aiming to be at least as passive-aggressively sarcastic as she had been. Though it seemed to garner the same response.

"Get. Out."

This time, she made Garrett chuckle. His shoulders shook a bit in amusement. But when the urge to continue laughing at her subsided, he realized just how irked he was about the situation. The Clock Tower was compromised (by a nuisance, no less), any memory of before he awoke on the wagon was completely nonexistent, and to top it all off, the City smelled like a pile of vomit and shit. Naturally, he decided on the most logical solution.

Find that bastard, Basso, and interrogate him. Yes, that was it. If anyone knew what happened to the Master Thief, it would be him. In fact, the likelihood of the situation being his fault was incredibly high. He might even have a file or two on this dense creature inhabiting his home.

Rising to his feet with more difficulty than anticipated, he addressed her with a raspy voice. "I'm leaving. When I get back, you better not be here."


	2. Chapter 2

~ II ~

"What do you mean, _gone for a year_?" If Garrett was half asleep through Basso's monologue of how many passed up jobs he had because of his absence, he was awake now. He watched the cigar in Basso's mouth drop from his chapped lips to the papers on his desk.

"Look Garrett- ouch!...damned cheap cigar- All I know, is you fucking disappeared on me halfway through your last job. For a full two weeks after that, I had to sit and read news of some Northcrest disaster. No you, no Erin, no prize, no payment, no clients for months, no money for months. Look at me!" Basso roughly grabbed and pulled at his patched vest in emphasis. "I look terrible! I'm broke as hell because you ran off somewhere with that idiot girl and decided not to give me a heads up about it."

Garrett rubbed at his eyes in frustration. Nothing made sense. "Basso, I don't know what you're talking about. Erin… _died_ and I blacked out on the roof trying to save her." The thief was pacing now, back and forth in the small room. "The next thing I know, I wake up on a wagon, guards chase me to the rooftops, some _person_ is living in my Tower, and now you're telling me it's been _one year_ since the Northcrest mission?!"

Basso's cigar dropped again as Garrett's voice hit an unusually loud pitch. "I came here for answers and you accuse me of making a romantic getaway with my failed protégé! Help me out here, Basso!"

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry about Erin. All I knew about was from the papers, okay? Look, I got a job. You take the job, I'll call us even, how about that?"

Garrett shifted uncomfortably at the familiarity of the offer. It seemed almost surreal to be back in this place, discussing work. Well, if a deal was being made, then it required some negotiating. "You tell me everything you can about that _witch_ in my house, and I'll take your job. _Then_ we're even." Basso crossed his arms and furrowed his heavy brows in thought. He reached under the desk for a small box, filled and overflowing with wrinkled papers.

"I might have something. What's she look like? Got a name?"

Damn it all to hell.

"…I don't know."

Basso stared at his friend incredulously. "You got someone living in your home, and you didn't even see what she looked like? You sure you didn't dream this?"

Garrett wracked his brain for something… _anything_ that might help to identify her. "Okay, she's proficient with a bow and arrow. Whether by skill or luck, I'm not too sure. She can obviously climb well, her face was hidden in the high rafters of the tower. Sounded…my age maybe? Young, but not too young. Mature, but not _old_."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

Basso sighed heavily and took a swig from a mug nearby. Flipping through the odd mass of files, he grunted and drew forth quite a few bundles. "Here are the files of the lucky ladies to have crossed paths with me and are still alive. These two here are high profile, and probably aren't your girl. This one is an ex-woman of mine, and a little round on the edges. Not very nimble. So she's probably out. These three…well, it obviously can't be Erin. So these _two_ , are your best bets. The blondie is your typical House of Blossoms vixen. She likes to sneak out to steal dresses from the rich widows on the wharf. It's possible she found your little hidey-hole and liked it better than the House. Or, it could be this one."

Garrett reached for the remaining bundle of papers. The first page was a description of a woman dubbed 'Rita' in her late twenties. Basso met her after something referred to as the 'Gloom' set in. He scoffed at the remainder of the page.

"What, you see something spelled wrong? You know I hate grammar stuff. It gets on my nerves to try to be proper with documenting shit."

"You compared her thieving skills to mine." The Master Thief stated nonchalantly. It drew a hearty laugh from Basso.

"I forgot I did that! Yeah, she's good. I'd probably be drowning in the river if I didn't run into her for jobs."

Garrett rolled his eyes. "It really does sound like you had such a hard time without me, Basso." He casually flipped to the last page. It was a rough sketch of the woman. "This her?"

"Yeah. I only ever saw her with soot all over her face so she could hide better. But no amount of soot could hide those blue eyes. By the way, what the hell's wrong with yours? You go blind or something?"

What?

"What are you talking about." As a statement, the sentence had a venomous ring to it.

Basso paused nervously, as if going over any consequences that offending Garrett's gigantic ego might incur. "Your uh… right eye. It's blue."

Garrett snatched up the file for Rita and backed quickly from the desk. "The mission." He didn't have time for Basso's drunken antics tonight.

* * *

…

Fetching Cornelius's ring was by far the worst job he had ever had. It wasn't because of the massive presence of the Baron's Watch. It wasn't because of how challenging it was to simply get into the place. It wasn't even because of the fact that Thadeus had caught him red handed. Although that particular bit definitely struck a nerve.

The mission was so terrible because of the sheer amount of defiled corpses. Lives ended almost exclusively by the Gloom, tossed and ripped and torn to shreds in the name of 'waste-not'. It was enough to induce vomiting. Garrett leaned against the wall of a dark, musky corner of the alley, heaving up everything in his stomach from sheer disgust. He had never seen so many bodies. And the smell…that rotten stench would haunt his senses for years to come.

"…Fuck." He sighed heavily and stumbled away from his mess. With a dizzy head and sore body, the thief continued slowly through the darkness. He just needed to get home. For a small second, he thought there was something he might be forgetting; but that feeling subsided quickly. It was replaced with a wave of exhaustion and the only resultant thought he could muster was the want for sleep. Nightmares would most likely be the constitution of this night, but he'd come to accept it. Sometimes it came with the job. Though, this particular job would have him up early tomorrow to try to do something about what he saw that night. The Gloom might be the cause of death, but research was necessary to figure out the reasoning for the Watch's cruelty. Even thieves knew to leave a dead body alone.

Upon reaching the window, he noticed a few match boxes surely left by Jeneviere. That damned Basso would have to wait for a few days. It was comfortably dark in the foyer and satisfyingly silent. No noise of machinery clanking and rattling and hauling body after body. No eerie lighting against pale, lifeless cadavers from a heated furnace. Just…home, and it felt perfect.

Each step further into the dark left behind a different piece of his grimy armor. Tomorrow, he would pick them up and clean them; but tonight he only had enough energy to remove them from his tired being. He had successfully removed all but his undersuit by the time he reached the bottom stair. A small flicker of light seemed to dance in greeting to him. Garrett unbuttoned the last layer of clothing as he walked over to the light, eyeing the sapphire-crested coil in its pristine casing. It sat in its bed of velvet, royal and beautiful. The blue jewels glittered in the dim lighting. Nice to see that intruder hadn't taken any of his collected things.

Wait. The _intruder_. Garrett immediately pinched the candle and crouched. Could this be some sort of trap? If that woman truly was the thief in Basso's file, there wasn't any other reason that the coil was still there other than an ambush. His eyes scanned the now completely dark living area. Not a single instance of movement. Could it be possible that he wasn't giving enough credit to the woman's integrity? Perhaps she respected the belongings of another thief? He waited. When nothing happened, he relaxed his shoulders and stood once more. Paranoia is the death of a thief. Remembering his confidence, despite how tired he was, Garrett made way for his bed. At least the woman knew well enough to listen to him when he said he wanted her gone.

He collapsed on top of inviting sheets and quickly succumbed to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

"Garrett?"

Garrett awoke to a most unpleasant sound. He creaked his eyes open to stare into pale blue ones. At first he thought his mind was playing a cruel trick on him; showing him something alluring, but accompanying that beauty with a terrible piece of baggage. He closed his eyes and sighed impatiently. The voice was unmistakable though; it was her. And he wasn't dead yet, so she was obviously continuing the sick game from earlier. Truth be told, he didn't stay still because of some miraculous ability to keep calm; but rather he didn't move because his muscles ached more than the night prior. It felt like agony just to flex anything.

He grunted in frustration at the world. "Why is Karma bullying me?"

Tired eyes opened to see the intruder woman throw her head back in laughter. Odd. "I quite thought that myself when I came back this morning to find you here. It really is you though, isn't it?"

Garrett pulled the blanket higher up his chest. He suddenly felt exposed to this woman. She seemed to know him? What happened? "I'm not following. Does a morning coffee make you friendlier?"

"No…but a good dress does!" She stepped off of the bed and pulled a flowing gown out of her pack.

"Beautiful, isn't it? I nabbed it from a poor sod who bought it for a date tonight. I'm sure she'll be lovely enough for him with or without this fine garment." The woman pulled a chair from the nearby table and gently laid the fabric to stretch over it. He watched her warily while she moved about the living area with the ease of someone in their own home; as if _she_ had been the one to live there for so long. _He_ felt like the intruder, and it was…weird.

The woman was upstairs now, clinking silvers against bowls. Mint and sage wafted to his nose, and he angrily held his breath at first. Those smells were a comfort to an injured being, and he knew immediately she was making something for him. He wouldn't have any of it. For all he knew, it was _his_ herb stash she was making from; and perhaps with poison.

Finally giving up and drawing a breath in made Garrett feel more awake than ever. The mint could be thanked for that. But he convinced himself he still hated it as he began to scan the now lit landing. Instead of the sun lighting his home as he remembered, it was strictly candle-light. But it allowed him to see better than his tired body was able to the night prior. Garrett swallowed nervously at a new-found revelation. If he had _truly_ been gone for a full year, and this woman had _truly_ made this her home in the meantime, he could see the signs. He wanted to refuse it at first, but stubbornness gave way to curiosity as his eyes wandered from each detail. Where the small windows were once barren and cold, long flowing black fabric framed their openings. Though not a necessarily an inviting shade, they made the room look _finished_. There was more shelving than he remembered, and instead of barrels and sacks cluttering the corners, their contents were emptied onto large shelves. Everything was organized and accessible. Even the floor invited him to walk on it, as it was now covered in large rugs of deep reds and blues and gold. Heaving himself up, he noticed that even the bed he slept in was different. It was no longer only covered by a single comforter, but now two draped over his legs. The bed frame had been stained and polished, and the mattress replaced by a very clean one. The pillows were sickeningly fluffy. He rose to his feet slowly, ignoring the soft carpet under his toes. He ignored the fact that it was _warm_ inside the tower now, and he certainly ignored the smell of mint and sage and now bread. He looked over to his collections boxes where the majority of his leathers were. Each piece still lay exactly where he dropped them last, but it wasn't the littered clothing that he was after. He stalked over and peeked into each display, noticing new additions. He found the Sapphire studded coil he felt had been stolen so long ago and saw a small "G" in golden lettering underneath it. In fact, each item that he knew to be _his_ was labeled as such.

"You didn't sell these." He winced when his statement sounded a bit dumbfounded. Monotony was hard to keep up when one was in such awe. He hoped she didn't notice.

"Hmm?" he heard her sound from up the stairs at a table overlooking the landing below. Some more clinking of silverware against stone, then a light chuckle. "Oh, your prizes. Why would I? They're too lovely not to keep. Didn't you notice them when you came in last night?" He hated that answer and ignored her useless question. He wished they were back to when he first entered his home. She would demand he leave and threaten his life, and he would continue being oblivious to how long he was gone.

But then Garrett turned and creaked up the stairs to see what she had done to the foyer and his heart caught in his throat. All of the books he had collected that he just tossed into stacks and piles in crates were displayed neatly in rows of shelves. The shelving lined the entire wall, and there was no rushed clutter to be found on any part of the floor. There was an additional table than he remembered, and each one served their own purpose. There was one dedicated to alchemy, with herbs all on display on two large bookcases on either side. Tubes and containers for bubbling liquids sat prepped and waiting for the next experimental hand to get to work. The next table was a study, with a chair tucked neatly underneath and papers and a few books opened to various pages. The new table was in the far corner where his clutter used to be, and had two chairs with silverware, plates, and a large vase with outrageously bright flowers in it. He raised a brow at that one.

The one she was at seemed to be for food. Underneath were crates filled with fruits and vegetables and salted and cured meats. His fire pit was there, but converted to a stove-like apparatus with breads simmering in garlic on top. His stomach growled loudly and he winced when she jolted her face to stare at him.

They looked at each other for a while, the man standing awkwardly with barely anything on, and the woman standing awkwardly with her hands in a bowl of…something. Wind could have blown between them to emphasize the silence. Her eyes moved about his body slowly, and Garrett watched the blue of her irises glint and reflect the flames next to her. Without thinking, he trailed down to the rest of her, taking in exactly who she was.

She was thin and even more so in the robes she wore. Shoulders and arms were exposed, showing off the lean muscles surely made from climbing. Underneath the dark robes on her torso were tight leathers around her hips and thighs. Knives and packs lined the side hem from her waist to her knee. She had small feet. Back up to her shoulders, they were framed with hair long and black. Waves rippled softly all the way to the top of her head. He stayed looking at her face before she turned back to the table quickly.

"How was your talk with the Queen?" That irked him again. He forgot about his previous curiosity with this strange woman and instead remembered his annoyance. She was using his tables, reading his books, sleeping in his home. He needed clothing, but didn't know where she might have put them. He wanted to be alone, but couldn't. And now she speaks to him in such a _friendly_ way?

Reaching for a piece of the crisped and oiled bread, he eyed her cautiously. When she ignored him, his hand quickly snatched it and he retreated to the window ledge.

"Were you there? With the Beggars?" He mumbled in between bites.

The woman's face stayed neutral as she turned to the alchemy table for various other herbs. She paused holding another sprig of sage. "I was there sometime after you left for the Warehouse. She told me you'd be returning home, and I told her you already did, and I wouldn't stand for it."

Garrett smirked victoriously at her admittance of defeat. "Yet here you are, feeding me."

"I do it for the Queen, not for you." She firmly objected as she slammed some oranges onto the table.

"So she'll be joining us then?" He watched her angrily slice through the fruits with a butcher's knife.

Silence fell between them again. This was why he lived alone. It was easier, not having to worry about sparing the feelings of another. Garrett huffed and turned to face away from her and attempted to think on his situation, though it proved to be no easy task with the smells emanating from the table. She was simmering slices of meat now in the spot that once held his bread. This would have been the nicest breakfast he could ever remember having, if it weren't for the cook. He leaned his back again the side of the window and looked out.

The City was different, and he reveled in its dreary glow. From high up here, he could see so many sick people in the streets. It saddened Garrett to think that he missed whatever event that could have caused such heartache. The Queen was cryptic in her answers when he had inquired. Perhaps this one would know. He looked back at her. She was stirring the herbal mixture from earlier with an intense focus.

Before he could ask, the woman spoke first. "You certainly know quite well to bite the hand that feeds you. _Literally._ "

Garrett sat, mulling over his ire. Was she telling him to _thank_ her?


End file.
